


When The Night Is Over

by Faye_Reynolds



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sledgefu Week 2020, assassins!au, depictions of violence, hence the au, lots of swearing, marked as graphic just to be safe, mentions of blood guns knives etc, prompt: blush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Reynolds/pseuds/Faye_Reynolds
Summary: they were complete opposites. snafu was calm and collected with an affinity for knives and close-quartered, hand-to-hand combat. gene was methodical and mordant with an affinity for ammunition and taking out targets from a distance. they’d be rivals since training and since they were both proficient and talented, the competition grew tenfold. which is why gene is laughing when he has to break into his own home because the other assassin is there to kill him. in a friendly discussion amidst the firefight, however, they discover that they both had orders to kill the other. now, with targets on their backs and limited people they can trust, they have to trust one another and work together to find out the truth. and along the way, they might just discover how similar they actually are.
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	When The Night Is Over

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy all this glorious (two days late, twice as long) finally writing for sledgefu week 2020  
> there is an epilogue that will be added but i didn't like putting at the end of this fic.  
> love,  
>  faye.

The glass from the window he just broke through tears his sweater and Gene groans in anger as more bullets shoot through the bookshelf beside his cover.

“You asshole! My mama bought me this for my birthday!” Despite the anger and adrenaline, he’s smiling.

He shoulders his rifle and pulls the handgun from where it’s strapped to his thigh.

“Maybe if ya actually knew how to break through a window, you wouldn’t be disappointing her.”

He gasps, offended, “My mama is _very_ proud of me!”

He uses part of a mirror that had shattered to check the sightline behind him where his target lies in wait.

“How low are her standards?” The other man shouts back and Gene laughs.

“Not as low as the agency. Guess that’s why they sent me to take you out!”

Gene fires off a few shots in three different spots to see if he could catch a shadow or movement to indicate his target’s position.

Nothing.

“You dead already, Snafu?” He shouts, glass cracking under his knees as he readjusted his position.

“You couldn’t hit the side of a goddamn barn back at the academy and you still can’t hit shit, Sledge! I’m surpri-wait!”

Gene watches from a corner for a shot but still can’t gauge where Snafu is in the other room. He waits for his target to continue.

“What do you mean they sent _you_ to kill _me_? _I_ was sent here to kill _you_!”

Gene laughs, “Come on, Snaf. You’re better than to play that shit. Riker gave me the orders this morning.”

There’s silence, no gunshots, just tension.

“Sledge, I got my orders from Riker last night. Showed me records and shit. Said there was undeniable-”

Gene interrupted, “Proof of rogue agency.”

“Kill on site.” They finished together.

“GODDAMN IT!” Snafu shouts on repeat while Gene slams his head against the wall.

Eventually, Gene hears the other agent sigh, “What’re you thinking, Sledge?”

He thinks that this is some right bullshit. He thinks Snafu might still want to kill him and he knows enough to admit that he would probably succeed. He thinks, if Snafu doesn’t kill him, he’s the only one Gene can trust at the moment. He thinks his mom is really going to be made about the sweater. He thinks if he lives to make it there, Riker is going to die by his hand. Most of all, he thinks he needs a drink.

“I think I need a beer, how ‘bout you?”

“I could use a beer, can I trust you not to kill me for the time bein’?”

“Long as you afford me the same privilege. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They both wait a long moment before standing at the same time, all arms in the air as they move to the kitchen.

They both lay their weapons on the counter between them as a sign of good faith.

Gene doesn’t turn his back as he grabs the only two beers left intact from the half-exploded fridge.

Snafu laughs as he watches the fumbling.

“Shut up Shelton, I ain’t turnin’ my back on you just yet.”

Snafu blinks slowly, biting his lip as he leans back in a chair just slightly riddled with bullet holes.

“Ain’t a bad view no matter which way you turn, Sledge.”

Gene rolls his eyes.

“For the love of-will you focus, Shelton?! Riker, possibly all of the agency, wants us dead and they’re gonna be sending a wrecking crew to make sure we’re both dead.”

Snafu nods and downs half the beer.

“Way I see we got two options.” The brunette offers.

Gene nods at him to continue.

“One. We take off, burn all identities, become blondes, and try to stay alive under we meet our ends.”

Gene keeps nodding, eyes darting at each entrance for any sign of trouble.

“Two. We take off, burn your house down, work under the intelligence radar to figure out why Riker wants us dead, and take him down.”

They look at one another and, despite the bitter feelings between them stemming from their time in training, they seem to realize at the same time that the only person they could rely on was another.

Begrudgingly, they were going to have to work with one another to get out of this.

“Never did think I’d look good as a blonde,” Gene laughs, “Let’s burn this fucker down.”

He holds out his bottle to meet the other, waiting with bated breath, for Snafu’s decision.

“I’m always down for some arson and revenge.”

The bottles clink and they down the last of their drinks.

“You got shit taste in beer, though. We gotta fix that, too.”

Gene would’ve smacked him if it didn’t mean he’d have several broken fingers for it. For all Snafu lacked skill with guns – which wasn’t much, he was top of their class in hand-to-hand combat, and Gene was smart enough not to test it.

Instead, he groans, this day was hell and it was only going to get worse. Of course, Riker _had_ to send Shelton.

“Why did Riker have to choose _you_ to kill me?”

Snafu laughs, grabbing their weapons from the counter as they move to the living room.

Gene tenses and clocks the exact moment Snafu realizes it and why.

Snafu hands over Gene’s weapon, an olive branch, an offering of trust.

He takes it, nods in confirmation, and slides it back into the holster of his thigh. He doesn’t miss the way Snafu licks his lips at the action, but he does ignore it.

“Now this ain’t my real place, just the one I stay when I’m in the city. So, I don’t got too much stocked here.”

He kicks the couch toward the wall and throws the rug up revealing a latched compartment on the floor.

Snafu expects a small area with a few weapons, cash, and equipment stashed.

He doesn’t expect the wall behind him to open completely and reveal a weapons cache large enough to make a small army jealous.

“Goddamn, Sledgehammah. Any weapons left in the country?”

Gene’s cheeks flush a deep pink and he smiles with pride.

“Not if I can help it.”

Snafu laughs lightly and moves with Gene toward the wall while the man explains his organization system.

He finishes with, “Take what you want or need, but don’t take too much, we can’t carry it all and need to travel light for now.”

Gene takes a few more handguns off the shelf and watches as Snafu masterfully checks several weapons, picks a few and throws them a second backpack, then grabs a rifle.

“Recoil on that is best, but you’re going to have to compensate more for wind direction and speed. The difference in metal comp makes it a lot lighter, so your accuracy differential is greater.”

Snafu meets his eyes over the barrel of the rifle, not threatening, but testing the weight distribution

“Rate of fire?” He asks, testing the hardware and movement.

“Good, not great. You’re sacrificing speed for quick position change.”

Snafu smirks as he lowers the weapon, “Fuckin’ nerd.”

Gene smiles and laughs then an idea strikes him. He turns around and reaches into a draw before pulling out a shiny, brown wooden box.

“I think these’ll be a better fit.”

He opens the box and holds in a laugh when Snafu drops the rifle to the ground in favor of the box.

Sledge watches as the assassin goes through the box of daggers with reverence.

“Hot damn, Sledge. You know the way to a man’s heart.”

Gene smiles, happy they would finally get some use. They’d been a gift from Leyden, his weapons guy outside the agency, but Gene was more inclined to ammunition than blades.

“Sure, with a five-inch blade or a precise bullet.” Gene chuckles, still loading ammunition, cash, and ids into the bag.

Snafu laughs, warm and genuine, “Thanks.”

Gene nods, “It’s amazing how a common enemy brings people together, huh?”

Snafu loads the daggers into the holsters that Leyden must have stashed in the box.

“Okay, I think we-,” Gene catches shadows approaching the house. Gene’s location was in the middle of the woods, outside the city. For both peace and quiet a secure perimeter.

In an instant, he has his sidearm in one hand and is pulling Snafu into him with the other. His goal had been to push Snafu behind him, but there isn’t enough time and he just pulls him to the side.

“If you wanted me in your arms, all you had to do was ask.”

Gene rolls his eyes and aims his gun at the approaching shadows outside the house.

“Stop hitting on me for one damn minute and grab a flash off the rack,” Gene whispers, throwing his backpack on.

Snafu does the same and they both walk silently towards the back room. Once they reach it, Gene turns to Snafu.

“Okay, there’s a latch in the corner, the staircase leads out to a path where a car is waiting. Keys are taped to the gas cap. You got maybe a minute and a half or I’m dead.”

Gene moves to head back when a hand grips his arm to stop him.

“I ain’t just leavin’ ya here, Gene.”

Gene smiles, “Damn right, I’m just askin’ you to pull the car around and make a bang.”

Lucky for them, the wrecking crew was taking their time and with their combined reputations, this crew was already smarter than most.

Snafu’s at the top of the stairs and Gene turns to make sure the floor cover gets replaced.

Snafu stares for a moment they don’t have and then winks and says, “You get to have all the fun.”

Gene laughs and whispers, “Don’t worry, you’ll like the car,” he winks back, “On my count, Shelton.”

He holds three fingers to countdown.

Snafu interrupts, with a whisper of, “One!” Then he’s gone.

Gene rolls his eyes and moves to sit on the counter of his kitchen, waiting for the crew. If he knew their combined enemy as he did, then there was only one team leader, Riker would send.

In a moment, there’s a flurry of shouts of ‘freeze’ and ‘don’t move,’ before said leader walks in.

Gene’s certain he’s going to have problems with his eyes because he finds himself rolling them again.

Chris DeMarco was a backstabbing, ass-kissing, pain in the ass and those were his best qualities. A man who would use anyone and anything to get what he wanted. He cuts corners and didn’t care who got hurt in the process. Average height, average build, average intelligence. He was an average man with above-average aspirations and while that wasn’t a bad thing, the way in which he chose to reach those aspirations was. While he was never bold enough to mess with Gene or Snafu, he had gotten Agent Hamm killed on a routine recon in Bucharest. Hamm had been an incredible agent whose time on the job didn’t manage to diminish his friendly nature. DeMarco wasn’t fired and Gene never knew why that was, but made it a point never to work with the man, even though Riker trusted him. Now he knows why...birds of a fucking feather and all that.

“Fuck, DeMarco, they sent you? And I thought Snafu was bad enough.”

The man laughs, but it’s hollow, “Oh Sledge, they always said you were the funny one.”

Gene shrugs, “Beats being the asshole one. Congrats on the promotion from being the bitchy one by the way.”

A member of the crew to his left laughs and Gene smiles.

“Strong words from a man with eight guns to his head.” The man aimed his gun at Gene’s head and sneered when Gene barely blinked.

“Well, like usual DeMarco, I know something you don’t.” Gene sighed.

“What’s that?” The agent asked as he cocked his weapon.

“Oh plenty of things,” Gene shrugs then hears tires stopping on the forest floor, “For example, what’s gonna happen in the next three seconds.”

DeMarco’s brows furrow in confusion when there’s a sudden telltale clink at his feet.

“Surprise,” Gene whisper before kicking DeMarco square in the chest and propelling himself backward off the counter. Gene crouches, covering his eyes and ears the moment the grenade goes off.

He swipes the leg of one of the crew, bulldozing past the other to his left who was scurrying to wipe the blinding light from their eyes.

Gene rushes through the lingering smoke, exiting with a jump out of the same window from earlier, creating another cut in his sweater.

He runs to the car, jumping in with a shout of adrenaline-filled joy.

Snafu slams on the gas and they’re out of the surrounding woods faster than Gene thought possible.

Genes frown once he catches his breath, “I got another cut in my sweater.”

Snafu makes a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk’ sound, “Don’t know you survived this long, damn. Your mama gonna disown you now, Sledge.”

Gene laughs wildly and Snafu joins in before he speaks again.

“They sent DeMarco.”

Gene smiles at the disgusted look the other man makes.

“To think the agency once had good taste.” He remarks.

They share another laugh and Gene is again wondering why it’s so easy for them to work together so effortlessly when they’ve spent years working against one another.

“Yeah, they stopped with me.”

Gene rolled his eyes. _There’s one reason._

“So, where we headed, Sledge?”

“Make a right on Smith and pull over.”

They stop and Snafu turns to Gene in confusion.

“You got any phone or other electronics, anything with a signal?”

Snafu hands over two phones without a doubt and Gene is surprised at how easily they were given up.

_Trust is the weirdest fucking thing_ , he thinks. He leans out the window and drops them into the sewer grate.

“Now go southbound for a few miles, we have to get Leyden.”

“What the fuck is a Leyden?”

Gene laughs so hard his lungs hurt.

“He’s a friend. Secure, off the grid, and he can get us to Riker.” He offers, worry in his voice that Snafu was going to go his separate way. In the span of trying to kill each other and then working together, Gene had already begun relying on the other man more than anyone else at the agency.

Snafu nods, and makes the turn, “If you trust him, I trust him.”

Gene gives him an odd look and another direction that Snafu follows without question.

“Nice wheels by the way.”

Gene smiles, “Most inconspicuous car in the city.”

“Should I run the sirens?”

Gene slaps his hand away from the switch.

“I said _in_ conspicuous, you idiot.”

Snafu just laughs and turns down an alley in an abandoned part of town.

“Pull in right here.”

Snafu parks the police cruiser in the garage and Gene jumps out to close the garage door behind them.

They grab their gear and Gene stops just short of the keypad by the door.

He starts entering a 16 digit key and smiles, mischief in his eyes that Snafu meets when he turns.

“Now if Bill pulls a weapon on you or tackles you to the ground, don’t kill him. He don’t trust easy and don’t like smartasses.”

“Yet, he’s friends with you.”

Gene laughs as the locks disengage and he opens the heavy steel door, “See, it’s shit like that that makes him shoot people.”

That’s all the warning he gives before they’re heading in.

* * *

“For fuck’s sake Bill, we’re clean.”

The man was running the fifth different detector to check them for bugs or electronics. He’d met Bill through a bad op in Boston and saved him from being shot. He was a genius in his own right and had trouble connecting with most people, but from the second they were clear, Bill had grown on him. A chatterbox when he wanted to be, Gene discovered he was a smartass with a penchant for trouble, justified paranoia, and collecting weaponry. Gene couldn’t think of a better person to call a friend.

“We dropped our rat tails in the sewer.”

Bill crosses his arms, “Were you gonna tell me anytime soon?”

Gene laughs, “I told you when we walked in.”

“I did that thing again, didn’t I?” Bill looks sheepish and Gene claps a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m the one who taught you to do it.”

Bill laughs, “Among other things.”

Gene smiles and they walk toward the large computer set up in the next room.

Snafu follows in silence but shares a look of ‘you sure about this guy?’ with Gene over Bill’s shoulder.

He nods with a look that says ‘trust me.’ And Snafu does. Has trusted him since the house when he didn’t let Snafu get caught and trust him to pull the car around and not leave him. It was thrilling putting trust into him and Snafu was hooked.

“So, you got a line on what’s going on?” Gene asks as Bill sits at his desk.

“Do I! Listen, I don’t know who you pissed off, but this Riker guy is out for blood. He sent crews everywhere.”

Gene pales and whispers, “Everywhere?”

Bill grabs his hand and Snafu zeroes in on it.

“They’re safe, Gene. Their names are buried under so many aliases, even I can barely find them half the time.”

Gene smiles, but it’s weak, and nods.

“Riker sent Snafu to kill me and vice versa for _some_ reason. There’s gotta be something in the records about it. You can’t run a kill on site op without authorization.”

Bill types rapidly on his dual keyboards for several minutes while all three men watch the screen.

“Not a goddamn thing, Gene. Not a single memo on any ops. If anyone is rogue, it’s him, but he covers his tracks too well, I can’t find anything on him.”

Snafu chimes in, softly, “Check the shipping records from Dubai. I was on that securement job, and something was off. Too many faces I didn’t know and too little information. The brief coulda been sent in a goddamn text.”

Gene nods, “And the Quebec ones too. I almost got clipped by port authority getting a package for the agency.”

They wait in near silence, the keyboard clacking filling the room.

Snafu looks at Gene, in complete amazement at the man he thought he knew. He thought he had Gene made, but everything about this, albeit very long day, had him seeing Gene differently. He thought Gene was an overrated, overzealous, overestimated agent. Since they met, he was cocky, arrogant, and annoyed Snafu on end. They’d been bitter rivals in training then in starting out and in more recent jobs, being the most utilized agents of them all. Everyone thought it was an ego thing or a friendly competition, but they were wrong. There was real animosity between them and the heated looks they gave one another wasn’t from any tension other than anger. It was a lot to take in for one day that this man was caring, loyal, protective, talented, funny, and easy to annoy. It was heady and Snafu was confused by nothing on this day more than the fact that he _liked_ Eugene Sledge, a lot more than he thought he ever would. A lot more than he should.

He chalked up to the gift of knives, there’s no way he felt anything towards Gene, it was a misappropriation of respect for a colleague. He rolled his shoulders and refocused on the hacker in front of them.

Gene had been watching him in his peripheral with a careful eye and turned to ask, “You okay, Snaf? I can get you some water.”

Snafu resists the urge to smile, and though his cheeks turned pink at the gentle question, he shook his head.

_What the fuck?_ He thinks.

“I’m good, Sledge. Thank you though.”

The redhead nods once and turns to the computer screens.

“Oh shit, it’s about the money! Look!” Bill laughs and Snafu narrows his eyes at the joy and Gene subsequent _fond_ smile. He ignores how it makes him feel (read: angry) and focuses on the screens.

The three then watched the monitors filter through a series of shipping and receiving reports, account transfers, and management before organizing themselves by time and place.

“Shit,” Snafu elongates the word over four syllables in a perfect representation of all of their thoughts collectively.

“There’s gotta be at least three years worth of unsanctioned and unauthorized ops.”

“Sledge,” Snafu gets closer behind him, noticing something familiar.

Distracted, he places his hand over Gene’s and guides him to the file.

“ _Fuck_.” They both exclaim in unison, hands still overlapped on the mouse of the computer.

Morroco. Two years ago. Agent Hamm’s last op.

“That motherfucker!” Snafu shouts and turns the back wall and promptly punched through the drywall.

Bill raises to shout, but Gene places a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

Snafu is still muttering swears against the wall and though Gene’s anger was mutual, he knew it would be more effective if he redirected it at finding Riker. No sense in both of them losing it.

Hamm losing his life due to an inexperienced, shitty agent, was one thing, was bad enough. Their boss sanctioning his death? Something else entirely.

Gene looks at his friend, “Okay, so we follow the money. There’s gotta be something somewhere. We go through everything.”

Snafu turned around after a long moment, “Sorry ‘bout the wall. Want me to fix it?”

Gene looks at Bill then over his shoulder with a mix of disbelief and pride.

Snafu was nothing like Gene thought. He was careful, calculated, and calm, even in the face of death. That Gene knew, from the day in the academy to footage of his missions. Yet, had a keen sense of humor, was polite to a fault, and a major, if reckless, flirt. Despite their line of work, he trusted where trust was given, and given his response to Hamm’s death, now murder was extremely protective of those he cared about. As Gene stared at the assassin, he could help but think about just how much he and Snafu had in common. Just how much he _liked_ that they had so much in common.

Then he shakes his head to clear the thought. They were partners in revenge, nothing more. It must’ve been misplaced respect that had his cheeks flushing. Yeah, that sounded right.

“I can patch it real easy.” Snafu points to the wall behind him where his fist had made a sizeable hole.

The power behind the punch really shouldn’t have Gene thinking what else it could do and he ignores the way his stomach flutters at it.

_What the fuck?_ He thinks.

Bill laughs, “It’s alright, man. Not the first time I’ve had to replace it.”

He levels Gene with a glare that is part admonishment (for past behavior) and part curiosity at Gene’s reaction, or lack of one.

Gene recovers, shoving all thoughts of Snafu from his mind.

“Wow, Snaf,” He laughs and places a firm hand on Bill’s shoulder, a signal that they’ll talk later, “Never seen him warm up to someone so quick. Guess someone likes you.”

Gene wince inwardly at his choice of words as Bill laughs and mutters, “Yeah, _someone._ ”

Snafu watches the exchange with barely contained amusement, but his eyes don’t leave Gene's when he responds.

“I have that effect on some people.” Then he winks and Gene thinks he is trouble.

* * *

They spend the next day going through hundreds of pages of paperwork and find that Riker had been using the agency as his own arms distribution center. Raking in cash in failed op and using agents to do his dirty work. Hamm had refused to finish an op so DeMarco and Riker left him on his own. They had killed him. The two agents followed that until they manage to get a lead.

A lead that Gene and Snafu had been arguing about for ten minutes.

“I’m tellin’ ya, that it’s not gonna happen!” Gene snapped.

“It’s the only place he’d logically be, Sledge! And tonight’s the best night to strike!” Snafu snapped back.

They’d been going round and round and still couldn’t reach a decision. Gene thought it was too easy, too clear and Snafu argued that’s why it was exactly where Riker would be.

Still, breaking into one the most secure building in the world to assassinate their boss sounded like a bad idea. Fun, yes, but still bad.

Gene looks up from where papers are scattered on the large metal table in front of Bill’s command station.

“Just… _trust me._ ” Snafu requests.

Their eyes maintain contact for a long moment and Gene finds no doubt, no hesitation. Just an open, honest appeal.

And Gene spent that moment wondering whether or not he would. Not whether or not he _should_ or _could_ because, that wasn’t in question, Gene had trusted Snafu from the moment their hands met over his weapon back at his house. No, he trust the other man, which was a heady feeling in and of itself, but whether or not he trusts they’d come out alive if they went through with this.

Gene smiles and has a fleeting but powerful moment where he thinks, with Snafu by his side, he could survive anything short of nuclear radiation. _Even then._

“We die, don’t get mad when I tell you ‘I told you so’ at the gates of Hell.”

Snafu laughs and watches as Gene walks back to the kitchen for a fresh round of beer.

“The gates would be frozen anyway. Only way you’d ever be right.”

He hears Gene's loud, genuine laugh from the kitchen and leans into, rather than ignores, the way his cheeks flush.

They settle on a plan with ease now that they knew where they were headed. After all, there were so only many entrances and only so many ways to get into the building.

“One problem, Snaf.”

Snafu looks up from his burger, ketchup latched onto the side of cheek in an obliviously adorable way that has Gene’s heart racing.

He reaches forward without thinking and wipes it away with a napkin.

For a moment they just stare at one another and Snafu brings them back to point when he asks, with a slight crack in his voice, “What’s the problem?”

Gene gazes at the napkin for a moment longer before clearing his throat and explaining the one flaw in their plan.

“If we’re going through this way, we need a bird.”

Snafu smiles, “I know just the guy.”

* * *

They take Bill’s car, government plates of course, and drive out to an abandoned field nearly 30 miles outside town.

Where they’d been baking in the sun for nearly half an hour.

“Damn, Snafu, where the hell is this guy?”

Snafu, who had been _lounging_ against the front of the car just smiled in the afternoon light.

Gene had trouble looking away.

“He’ll be here, keep your pants on.”

The brunette opens his eyes and looks to find Gene already looking at him.

He winks, “Or don’t.”

Gene rolls his eyes and chalks up the heat in his cheeks to the hot temperature.

The wind picks up suddenly and the men both look up after hearing the telltale sound of blades fighting against the wind.

With his jaw dropped, Gene exclaims, “Holy shit!”

Snafu just laughs and claps with pride.

The blades die down and a shorter man with close-cropped hair and bright, wide smile hops out of the door.

Snafu jumps down from the car and jogs to the pilot while Gene follows suit and watches as they hug with enthusiasm. He doesn’t appreciate the way his own eyes narrow at the embrace, but he doesn’t fight it either.

“Good as hell to see ya, man. Been too long.”

The slightly shorter man smiles wider and laughs, “Damn straight, ain’t seen you since you pulled me outta the Mediterranean.”

Snafu ruffles his hair, shrugs, and sneaks a look at Gene that Burgie doesn’t miss.

The pilot looks between them with a knowing look, “Yeah, thanks for that by the way. I can’t get into Italian airspace without a shoot to kill order.”

The two of them laugh and head toward Gene who couldn’t even hide the fact that he’d been staring, wondering about the life Snafu’s led to this point and surprised at how close it is to his own. Different experiences, different friends, different methods, but still so similar it’s making Gene’s head spin.

“This is one Eugene Sledge,” Snafu points at Gene, “Sledge this is R.V. Burgin, best pilot in the world. Only one in the world I trust.”

Burgie pushes Snafu with a scoff, “Only one that trusts you, you mean. Pleasure Sledge, Merriell ain’t told me much but says he trusts you and that you’re a good shot. That’s enough for me.”

Snafu rolls his eyes at the fact Burgie never manages to call him by anything other than his first name and pulls the pilot to his side.

“No wonder you been shot so much, you’ll trust anyone who impresses you.”

Burgie doesn’t miss a beat.

“Still doesn’t explain why I’m friends with you.”

The three of them laugh in unison and head back to Bill’s.

* * *

Snafu guides a blindfolded Burgie into the bunker and Gene laughs as the _trained assassin_ keeps trying to trip the pilot in a childish display of affection.

"Knock it off, Merri. Goddamn."

Gene smiles at how close the two seem to be. It was good Snafu had someone like Bill was to him. Their professions didn't allow for many friends. Even one could make a difference between life and death.

“Hope you don’t mind the blindfold, my buddy don’t like new people that much. But we need everyone here if we want any chance of success.”

Burgie elbows Snafu, “Surprised the asshole behind me is still alive.”

They laugh once fully inside, and Snafu pulls the blindfold off.

Once his eyes adjust, Burgie burst into laughter. Bill clears the corner just as the two agents were about to ask what was going on.

“Burger?!”

“Bilbo!”

They rushed to one another in an excited hug, while Gene moved next to Snafu to stare at the two men.

“What the fuck i-,” Snafu started.

“-is going on? No idea.” Gene finished.

“You two know each other?” Snafu asked, loudly as to cut through the chatter.

“Know each other? Bill and I went to the same high school. Still hold the record for most detentions without getting kicked out." Burgie boasts.

Bill smiles, "Still have a regular game night on Wednesday, usually to talk shit about you two.”

The pilot and the hacker laughed again, and Gene had to join in.

He turned to Snafu, laying a hand on his arm, “Small fucking world.”

He walks away toward the chatty men, unaware of the lingering heat left on Snafu’s cheeks and arm where he touched.

_If they survived,_ Snafu thinks, _something would need to be done about that._

“Alright, we killing anyone tonight or we gonna bullshit all night?” He snaps, not intending it to be harsh, but needing a distraction from his burgeoning _feelings_ toward the other assassin in the room.

Burgie sighs when everyone quiets down, “Still got a penchant for dramatics, I see.”

Snafu shrugs and refuses to meet Gene’s eyes.

“Alright, the building has plenty of entry points, but they’re all marked with RFID, security, cameras, and guards…”

As they run over the plan, this time with the final member of the haphazard team, both assassins keep catching on another’s eye, unaware of how the other was beginning to feel.

Burgie speaks up, “I can get you that low, but these lights here aren’t lights, they’re alarms. You’ll have less than 40 to drop and even less before guards crowd the roof.”

Snafu looks to Gene for the first time since they started and they both smile at one another.

“We’re not dropping on the roof, Burg.” Snafu laughs when the pilot’s eyes widen.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.”

“That’s what I said! It’ll never work.” Bill chimed it.

“It will if you have the right gear. The swing drop is long enough to weaken the window. Explosives won’t guarantee it and we need precision.”

Bill was nodding as Gene talked, “I got just the thing, some new holsters that’ll make it easier to carry more but distribute weight better. More ammo and weapons, y’all are gonna need it.”

Gene smacks Bill’s back in pride, “Never doubted you for a moment, Bill.”

“Like you could afford to,” Bill laughed and looked to Burgie with a nod of his head, “Help me with the gear Burger.”

The hacker laughed and made his way to his weapons room with the pilot who kept muttering how they were gonna die.

Gene leans back in the chair and cracks his back, nerves steading as he accepts his fate. Each job held the same potential promise, the promise that he might not make it home. If any job was worth it, it’d be this one.

He watches as Snafu seems to reach the same conclusion and when their eyes meet, it’s in a wordless, solemn agreement that they were both committing to this, and in one way, to each other. To watch one another’s back, to trust _fully._

“Still can’t believe you smuggled that shit in from the arctic.” Burgie laughs.

The moment is broken as Bill walks in with four open beers.

They stand around the table, each with one in hand.

“Gentlemen,” Gene offers, wondering what he could possibly say that would sum it all up, “Let’s kill some bad guys.”

It’s a little corny, but it gets the job done as they all laugh and then gear up.

Snafu’s loading his knives back into their holsters, with his leg braced on top of a chair, when Bill notices Gene, who had also been watching and smiles at him.

Gene knows he wants to give him shit, but he shakes his head with severe intent, it wasn’t the time.

_Maybe if they made it out alive,_ Gene thinks.

Bill nods back and Gene places his leg on the chair beside Snafu, leaning down to place his ankle holster.

Snafu squints and watches the process.

Gene laughs, “Lucky charm.”

“Never took ya for superstitious, Sledge.”

The redhead winks, “Hasn’t failed me yet.”

There’s a clap to their left and they look over in unison.

“We ready to fly, boys?”

Bill hands over earpieces, “I’ll guide you through the building, the cams on your vests like these aren’t prone to any communication interferences that I know of,” he looks to both of them seriously, “Bring ‘em back in one piece.”

Then, in surprise, he pulls both of them into a quick hug, “Give ‘em hell.”

They both shoulder their rifles and adjust their gear while Burgie and Bill said their goodbyes to one another.

Bill declares dramatically as they reach the door, “Goodbye kids, fly fast, fly free.”

He loses his faux-watery voice when they give him the middle finger in unison.

Gene and Snafu climb in the back of the cruise, while Burgie takes the driver’s seat.

“Buckle up for safety.”

They all smile as he speeds toward the empty field.

* * *

“Two minutes out!” Burgie shouts over the roar of the helicopter.

The two assassins in the back check their weapons once more. They'd be dead if they were to jam.

Gene looks over to Snafu who was already looking at him, “See you on the other side!” He shouts with a smile.

“See you on the other side!” Snafu shouts back.

“60 seconds, let’s go boys!”

They both brace themselves against the side of the chopper, lines gripped tightly in gloved hands.

They look at one another, Snafu winks and Gene rolls his eye but smiles back.

“GO! GO! GO!”

In a blur, they kick off, using the momentum to propel directly at the opposite ends of the top floor.

As soon as they cab they beginning shooting their rifles at the windows, breaking the stability rapidly as they get closer.

In less than 90 seconds, they’re bursting through the windows, Snafu unlatching his rope and sliding too far forward into Gene whose hands slip.

“SNAF!” He shouts, arms out as he threatens to fly back out the window.

In an instant, Snfu has Gene by his right arm, razor-sharp knife cutting the cord in a single slash.

Gene lands twelve inches from the edge of the building before scurrying back and into Snafu’s chest.

They both laugh uproariously, adrenaline and near-death turning it hysterical.

“So much for ya lucky charm,” Snafu jokes, breathless and still holding onto Gene.

They hear boots on the ground and move instantly to brace to fight, pistols drawn, shooting on the opposite sides where the guards come through.

Bill crackles into their ears, “He’s on the move guys, and you got five more coming up the stairs, take the fire exit to get around them.”

They look to one another and without speaking, reach a decision.

Half a minute, five more dead, they’re walking down the main stairs, heading directly to Riker.

“Or just shoot your way through, what do I know, I’m just the guy trying to help you two idiots survive.”

Gene shoots the last guard at the top of the stairs before they head toward Riker’s location.

“I’d say we’re doing pretty go-,” Gene’s interrupted by being tackled down the stairs.

“GENE!” Snafu shouts, aiming directly at the two men, the darkness in the building making it difficult to discern the right target.

“Get,” The redhead grunts as he takes a punch directly to his jaw and stomach, “Ugh, Get Riker!” He kicks the assailant off.

“Come on DeMarco, you fuck!” Gene laughs, mouth bloody, as he’s tackled further down the way.

Snafu spends a long time watching through his scope for a good shot, but the two are moving too quickly to get one.

“Snafu! GO!” Gene shouts again before they disappear from his sight.

Snafu closes his eyes, throws a small prayer to whatever, that Gene makes it out.

He then turns, eyes set on the room ahead of him.

He kicks the door open, to find Riker sitting at his desk.

It’s cocky, if not cliché, but it works. Snafu drops his guard long enough for the two agents behind the doors to mostly disarm him, not before he manages to stab both of them…twice.

Snafu manages to fight off the two of them, dodge each punch or strike, and using his entire body as a weapon. But they get three good punches in succession, one strong enough to make him dizzy and then he’s on the ground, with two more kicks to his chest for good measure.

There a loud clap on the other side of the room and Riker stands up.

“I always admired your skills, Shelton, but to see them first hand. A pleasure really.” He sighs as he reaches them and Snafu barely has time to blink before a knee connects with head. His head whips back in a rush and he breathes through the sudden additional pain.

“Get these two drones off me and I’ll show ya just how good I really am, you prick.”

He spits out a mouthful of blood onto the man’s shoes.

The man laughs and this time Snafu braces himself for impact, still held tightly in the arms of the agents.

“Let him down,” Riker commands and Snafu falls to his knees before being pushed back by a patent, black shoe to lie on the ground.

There’s glass cracking from behind him and a sustained dragging sound and Snafu closes his eyes when he realizes the footfall wasn’t Gene’s.

“Got something for you, boss.” DeMarco grins, despite the limp, bleeding, and cuts along his face.

There’s a loud crack from behind him then and Snafu shoots his eyes open to find a bloodied Gene kneeling behind his head, holding his ankle tight. Snafu clocks his movement but smiles when the others don’t.

“You ain’t ever looked better Gene,” Snafu laughed, coughing through a gurgle of blood, “Oughta get you bloody more often.”

“Just thinkin’ the same thing, Snaf.” Gene smiles and winks before mouthing ‘knife.’

“Shut up!” DeMarco shouts.

There’s a magazine loaded into a gun and both men look up to see Riker loading their own weapon.

“You two just couldn’t accept your fates, could you? No, just had to come here and ruin my night and try to keep me from my money.”

“We can always come back another night,” Gene offers with a laugh.

“I said shut up!” DeMarco strikes Gene on the back of the head and he falls forward, reaching for Snafu’s hand beneath his back as they make the switch.

“Oh, how the mighty fall,” Riker sighs, “Just like Hamm, you two were just too big for your britches. Can’t have that.”

Riker cocks the weapon and aims it at them and Gene needs to stall before he can grab the knife.

“Wait!” Gene shouts, trying not to react at Snafu’s fingers dance along his hand to slide the knife through.

“Don’t we get any final words? We deserve that at least.”

Riker narrows his eyes, but with no sight of trouble, allows it.

“You have one minute.” He sighs.

Gene looks down, watching Snafu’s face upside down is a weird way to do this, but he figures it’s better than nothing.

Snafu smiles and Gene matches it before leaning down to kiss the other man. It’s awkward, bloody, and slightly painful, but raw and intense in the best way. Gene thinks then that he could spend a lifetime kissing Snafu and still find it as exhilarating as it now.

They pull apart, brows connected in opposing directions as they laugh. 

“So much for that lucky charm.” Snafu smirks, lips redder than they ought to be.

“Time’s up lovebirds, guess the rumors were true all along.”

Gene leans by Snafu’s ear and whispers, “On my signal, shoot 'em down.”

“He said enough!” The traitor pulls Gene back up who feigns weakness greater than he felt.

“Hmm…Who to kill first?” Riker sways the gun back and forth between them.

Gene takes a deep breath, tightens his fists behind his back, and opens the knife.

He grips it tights, looks to Snafu once more.

“Hey, Snaf.”

When the man makes eye contact, Gene nods, “See ya in hell.”

He winks and spins on his knees using the momentum to drive the knife into DeMarco’s thigh. He hears two shots over the agent’s cry of pain.

Another gunshot rings out as Gene stands to wrap his arms around DeMarco’s neck. He watches Riker cry out then drop as Snafu empties the clip into the man’s chest.

There’s a sick, but satisfying, crack as he finishes the job on DeMarco and lets the man’s body fall to the ground.

He walks to where Snafu is laughing in relief and offers a hand. They succeeded in utilizing the other’s methods and the fact isn’t lost on either of them. Two sides of the same coin, as it were.

The brunette grabs it and lets himself be pulled up.

“Nice job, Agent Shelton,” Gene smiles, still holding onto Snafu’s hand.

They share a laugh, reality of what they just accomplished catching up to them as the blood on their clothes and skin dries.

“Back at ya, Agent Sledge.”

Their comms crackle back to life.

“Welcome back boys, dossiers were sent to every major operation manager of the agency like you asked. Should they choose to ignore it, we expose them.”

They pull apart, reluctance from both men in the action.

“Yeah, as if we ain’t got enough targets on our back.” Snafu sighs, bending over to pull the knife from DeMarco’s thigh. He wipes the blade on his leg before placing it back into the holster.

He smiles when he see Gene reaching for his gun the same way.

“You know, you ain’t half bad with a knife.”

Gene put Snafu’s arm around his shoulder as the man nearly falls over, “Yeah, you ain’t that bad with a gun, either.”

Snafu tries to laugh but it’s cut short in pain as he holds his side, “Got the job done.”

“Burgie’s waiting on the roof whenever you dumbasses are ready.”

Gene guides them toward steel doors, “Let’s skip the stairs this time.”

* * *

When they reach the roof, the wind is calm, the air is humid, and twilight is threatening to break at any moment.

Burgie is leaning against the chopper and runs to them when he sees they're struggling to stay standing.

“Y’all are something else,” Burgie comments, both fond and frustrated.

“T-thanks, _mom._ ” Snafu coughs out.

It takes some doing, their injuries combined not making it easy to climb into a helicopter, but once they’re finally in the air, they relax.

“Bill’s meeting us at my place in the country. Secure, isolated, and a fridge full of liquor to lay low,” Burgie offers as they head into the twilight sky, morning breaking as they travel further.

They’d survived. When everyone was against them and they only had each other to rely on, they someone made it out together. It’s a dizzying realization that they were once against one another when they were so… _compatible._

Gene and Snafu sit side by side, leaning into another as exhaustion sets in.

It’s quiet in the cabin beside the steady breathing and resonance of the chopper.

They’re warm and tired, bruised and bloody, but satisfied.

Though they’re about to pass out, both their thoughts run wild with the other beside them. The kiss wasn’t just a tactical move, it was a genuine last request, a goodbye if they died, a promise if they didn’t. Reciprocated in every way that matters. It was an easy one to make in the face of death. Now, though, in the light of survival and early morning, committing to that promise was proving the most difficult part of it all. They stayed alive by staying alone, relying on only themselves and their instincts, skills, and training for survival. Their professions were lonely ones, but it was part of the job.

The last few days threw all of that out the window. They had opened their lives to and trust to one another. It wasn’t only the fact that they were once adversaries, now _something else_ , that made the promise so nerve-wracking, it was the implication. The invitation to trust further, know more, and _feel_ deeper. To be vulnerable when their entire lives demanded they be otherwise. The fear was familiar, but greater than any mission either had ever been on.

Fight or flight was kicking in and one of them had to do something or miss their chance.

Heart racing, Gene slides his hand the few inches, which felt like miles, to the left to grab Snafu’s hand only to find the other man’s already there.

They’re silent as their hands join.

But, as Gene kisses Snafu’s sweat-cooled hair he thinks he's in love.

When Snafu squeezes their joined hands and pulls them to his lips, he knows he is.

Anything they did now, they would do together.

_'Til death._


End file.
